Edward Elric: The Art of War
by Joak Drysso
Summary: First dip into Fullmetal Alchemist Fanfiction. A tale of change, seen through the eyes of Edward Elric. Mangaverse, time jump of 3 years. Rated for maturity. Comments welcome.


Edward Elric's First Treatise of War: Expansionism and Recent Military History

Idoneus Cantus (choppy translation, but I don't know anyone who knows that much latin): Machinae Supremacy - Through the Looking Glass, Led Zeppelin - The Immigrant Song, Red Alert - Hell's March

_War is change. People hate change. People claim, at least, to hate war. Yet war is the one constant that any human can count on. People are paradoxical in that sense._

Now, when I say war is change, I don't mean simply a change from the normal day-to-day life. Any veteran of the Ishbalan War will tell you this. If war were as clinical as that, there would be no reason for countries to sign treaties except out of convenience.

No, war is a much more serious change. And now that war has broken out again, I, as the Fullmetal Alchemist, have a duty to perform: I must go to war and kill other humans simply because of my station. And because of this duty, I have changed. Profoundly, if I may say so. Though it's not all good. I've picked up a few nasty habits. Smoking, for one. It's my way of clearing the bloody fog from my mind, by replacing it with the fog of smoke. It kills me bit by bit, sure, but at the rate we go, I don't expect to live much longer anyways.

I frequently question the reason for the war, but it only takes one name to make me realize how important it is that we win this.

Ling.

There is a huge ink blot where the next paragraph would go.

Whoops. Broke another pen.

For those who are unaware of whom I speak of, Ling was the prince of the enemy, who sought immortality and found it by betraying his friends and country. He became a homonculus. And now we are blamed for his death because he was in our borders when he committed this unforgivable sin.

The first treatise of war? Central is by and far an imperialistic government. We conquered Ishbal for no reason than that they righteously, if overzealously, reacted to the unprovoked death of one of their own. And even then it has been known that the "accidental" shot was in fact ordered from the top branches of government. What Ishbalans survive are now forced into concentration camps and continually moved from location to location in order to prevent them from organizing. Not that there are enough of them left to prove any real threat to Central.

The first priority of Central is land and power. We are expansionist, imperialist, however you desire to coin it. Ergo, the first treatise of war is that war is always a matter of greed. For power, land, money, you name it, people will go to war over it, misled by the idea that they fight for a greater good, or to protect themselves. And how blind we are that we cannot see this. That no one besides a select few realize that Central fights wars for its own personal gain, never for its citizenry.

War is change. Welcome to hell.

"You know, in order for an attack to be pre-emptive, it has to be launched before the enemy is aware of the plan. Generally, this means before war is declared." Fullmetal Alchemist Edward Elric shot a glance at the Fuhrer. "At this point in the game, you're a wee behind on that front. Got a light, by the way?" He held up a cigarette.

Fuhrer Roy Mustang snapped his fingers and a small flame kissed the tip of the cigarette. Ed took a pull and then exhaled slowly, the smoke wafting up to the ceiling. He nodded his thanks and took another pull, blowing the smoke again before spinning the coffin nail through practiced fingers. "So you want someone killed. Send one of your trained people for that. I'm no assassin."

"No, you're better than an assassin. I'm calling on you to do this because, number one, we can't spare anyone else-" Ed quirked a brow, and Roy sighed. "-well, we can't spare anyone who could do something of this magnitude…which was my second point. I do believe you're familiar with General Guan?" After Ed nodded, Roy continued. "His attacks have largely been successful because we've been trying to lure him into Central territory without losing ground on either side of him. But he's not biting. So we need someone who's an accomplished sneak with noted fighting abilities. My staff, every single one of them, recommended you. And I agree." Roy leaned forward and rested his chin on his hands. "First Lieutenant Edward Elric, also known as the Fullmetal Alchemist, I am ordering you to assassinate General Guan. Do you understand your mission?"

Edward Elric, hardened by losses, shaped by war, rose to his feet, cigarette in his left hand, and saluted. "Understood, Fuhrer." As he turned to leave, he took another puff on the coffin nail and sighed. "I'll never get used to saying that."

"Does it bother you that much that I've fulfilled my dream, while you seem to have realized that you never will?" Roy frowned. He and Ed had an uneasy friendship after some six years of bitterness, and when Ed was particularly upset he had a habit of taking it out on Roy.

"No. I think you're the best guy for the job. But you made your biggest impression as the asshole colonel. So I still think of you as him." Ed paused for a moment. "I guess it has been that long. Anyways, I'll get moving."

Ed left. Roy blinked. Ed had changed more than he realized.

---

"And just where are _you_ going, Mister Elric?" Ed visibly winced. For all of the changes that recent life had forced him through, he had one fear that stayed with him. The fear of Winry's tools. "You just got back three days ago, and you're packing _again_?"

Ed sighed and turned to face the most gorgeous woman he knew (though he was hard-pressed to admit it, and that would never happen in public unless hell froze over) with a weary smile. "Roy-" It never stopped sounding odd addressing the leader of their nation by his first name. "-gave me orders half an hour ago. Hopefully, I won't be gone for more than two weeks." He tried to look away as she transformed into her 'puppy eyes' mode. Inwardly cursing the natural male weakness to this technique, Ed hung his head. "There's nothing I can do. Orders are orders."

"You could quit."

They'd had this discussion before. "I can't quit, it's-"

"-personal. I know, I know. We just haven't had a lot of time to spend together lately."

"Well, if I pull this off soon enough, Roy might pull for a month or two of leave." Ed wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, exaggerating the movements, sending Winry into a fit of giggles. And when the laughter ended, Winry crossed the room and pushed Ed down on his bed, trapping him there with her body. Regarding him with a look that sent a pleasant shiver down his spine, she kissed him, then grinned. And just as sudden as her advance came, so too did her retreat, leaving Ed fighting down a heavily flushed face.

Perhaps the biggest (yet not unwelcome) change over the years was in the relationship between he and Winry. He didn't remember when exactly it had happened. What he did remember was coming "home" from the front line, drenched in rain to find Winry waiting for him, a tear-stained, smiling, _familiar_ face. There were no words between them on the porch when he simply kissed her and fumbled to open the door, or in the home when both of them simply consented to an unbreakable union. They were still friends, of course, because nothing would change that. But the relationship was more than that. To Ed, she was his friend, his lover, and confidante. He wouldn't want it any other way.

---

Ed stared sullenly out the window of the train. The station was now only five minutes away, but the intensity with which his new aide stared at him was slightly unnerving and seemed to slow time itself in order to make Ed as uncomfortable as possible. He was glad that she would not be coming with him; her anal-retentive nature would grate on him to no end while he tried to do his job.

After a small eternity the train's whistle blew and Ed shot to his feet, grabbing what little luggage he had brought and running out of the train. He stopped, looking around. Roy had assigned "an old friend" as Ed's guide through the mission, but Ed had not been further informed on any identity. So as Ed peered around the station, trying to find someone, _anyone_ who he recognized.

So of course he did not notice his guide until a _very_ surprised voice echoed. "Brother!" Years of instinct brought Ed's head spinning to the source of the cry, almost worried, before relief and surprise brought a smile to his face. "Al!" The huge armored form that carried his brother's soul waved, jogging towards him, while Ed ran at him. The two collided and laughed. It had been ages since Al had joined the military, showing the same abilities as Ed, and the two were often assigned to different locales so that a large bulk of Central's alchemical power wasn't grouped in one point.

"So why are you here, Ed? Are you supposed to…" If Al had eyes, he would have probably blinked a few times as Ed fished out a cigarette and lighter. "You know that stuff stunts your growth, right?"

Ed shrugged. He had grown a good three or four inches over the last couple of years, and after so long the short remarks no longer bothered him. But for old times' sake he gave Al a light shove with a smile on his face.

Al was bothered. Regardless of what Ed had seen before – homunculi, corpses, all manners of things – he had always gotten back on his feet and taken umbrage at anyone who called him short. Just what had happened to Ed to make him change so much. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Al. So you're helping me kill General Guan?" The way Ed said it was so casual that Al was beginning to think it was in fact some doppelganger and not the real Ed. But the walk, the constant nervousness, and indeed the shudder at the sight of milk clued him in.

_Things really do change. What else has happened to you, brother?_ "Er, yes, I suppose. I wasn't told that it would be an assassination."

"You probably wouldn't have agreed to go if it had been." Puff. "You don't like to take part in death. That's why I never wanted you to join the military. How is Armstrong, by the way? I haven't really seen him since the ceremony a year and a half ago."

"He's fine. Still going on and on about the manifold techniques passed down through the Armstrong line for several generations. Did you know that they have a very disturbing technique with a mop? Effective, but horrifying. If I never have to see that again, I'll be happy."

Ed barked out a laugh. And took another pull on the cancer stick. "You don't sound like you've changed much, Al."

"You sound like you've changed a lot, brother."

Ed looked down at the ground for a moment. "I suppose I have. I never really noticed it before." He looked at the cigarette in his hand. "I still don't remember ever picking up this habit. And I don't remember when the first time Winry and I…" His face flushed, and Al glanced at him with an aura of total shock.

"Are you _serious?_" After Ed nodded, Al burst out laughing. "I suppose I'll have to mail some cash to General Hawkeye then." Ed stared at him. "There was a pool going on for how you two would finally get your act together and just admit it. General Hawkeye said it would be something like that. She beat Havoc to it, so he had to settle with dating. Wonder how much she'll get off of this…"

Ed was practically seething, but Al's laughter calmed him more than a cigarette ever could. He eventually cracked a smile.

It was good to be with his brother again.


End file.
